


Belladonna

by Lazydesk



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angry Yuri doesn't want to be in love, M/M, Mention of Child Abuse, Mention of Drug Abuse, Not so smol Yuri Plisetski, Platonic Isabella Yang & Jean, Rivals to Lovers, Slow Burn, Soulmate AU, The universe has a funny was of making you care, Yuri Plisetski is angry, Yuuri and Victor are soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-15 10:53:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9231698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazydesk/pseuds/Lazydesk
Summary: Yuri Plisetski was not unlike the embers leftover from a fire. He burned hot and for longer than those around him. Everything he did managed to make Jean feel like he was being consumed.A story in which Yuri Plisetski is angry at the universe for giving him Jean as a soulmate.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You get two soulmates in life. One that is completely platonic and the other romantic.

            Jean had always loved the soul mark that was wrapped possessively around his hip. Out of his two soul marks, the one two signify romance was the more interesting of the two. The elegant Belladonna flowers were ironic. A person’s mark was supposed to signify what the love between them and their soulmate. Belladonna was incredibly beautiful and extraordinarily poisonous. It could mean a number of things a beguiling nature, beauty, or attraction. It made him laugh to think that somewhere out there was someone who bore the same mark. It was easy to picture what they’d be like. They would be graceful and move with ease. They’d be vicious and callous, their personality nothing like their looks. Jean had been twelve when he found his platonic soulmate, Isabella and him had fallen in sync immediately. Their mark was a maple leaf. What could he say, the two of them were painfully Canadian.

            There was one thing Jean knew and that was his soul mate was younger than him. The flowers on his hip hadn’t appeared until he was a child. Now that he was twenty-three, Jean was tired of waiting for his soulmate to show up. For a man that thrived on living in the limelight he kept silent about the mark on his hip. That portion of his body was kept out of photos, even hidden from good friends. That mark belonged to him and one other person, no one else. Everyone knew about Isabella and their hell raising. The two of them were unapologetically best friends. She had supported him through the hardest portions of his life. When Jean was feeling down Isabella was there with her camera, snapping shots and telling him that he was beautiful. The only people Jean knew who broadcasted the fact that they were romantic soulmates was Yuuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov; they were ridiculous and in love. It was also impossible not to smile around them. Even Yuri Plisetski’s lips would quirk up into something resembling a smile when he was around them.

            The Grand Prix series was in full swing. Jean was walking towards the ice with Isabella; they had arrived a week early with the intention of getting some practice in. Russia was dreadfully cold and bitter that time of year, just like its golden boy. Yuri Plisetski was skating across the ice, leg raised high in the air behind him. Victor waved at Jean and gestured for them to join him. The older Russian had retired and so had Katsuki. The power couple had become Plisetski’s assistant coaches alongside Yakov. The old man was beginning to be absent more than he was present. It wouldn’t be long until the gruff old Russian retired from his position as Yuri’s coach. Victor was the choreographer and Katsuki was Yuri’s anchor. The years had calmed the blond but he still had a dangerous bite. Jean didn’t dislike Yuri, as a matter of fact he found the Russian rather interesting. Behind that cold exterior was a nineteen year old boy ready to break down any time now. It was obvious that Yuri Plisetski had no idea how to do things in moderation.

            “You’re welcome to skate Jean,” Victor told him, signature smile on his face. “Yuri is done with most of his jumps for the day,” He explained in his exuberant tone. Jean smiled and Isabella took a seat on the bleachers.

            When Jean’s left foot hit the ice, Yuri skated past him with a dangerous smirk on his face. The years had made him tall and muscular, no longer the dainty little boy Jean could still picture. That did not mean Yuri wasn’t elegant. There was still a soft feminine side to his face and body. The way his long hair curled around his angular face gave Yuri an angelic look.

            “What are you doing here asshole?” Yuri growled as he skated backwards. As soon as he opened his mouth the Russian was considerably less soft. Chuckling, Jean slid onto the ice and skated lazily forwards. The flight his mom and dad were supposed to be on was delayed so he would take his time skating, only running through drills and basic jumps. Off to the side Katsuki made a disapproving noise at Yuri’s statement.

            “Don’t worry kitten, I won’t get in your way.” Yuri snorted and launched himself into a flawless quadrupole lutz with his arms raised. The young man loved to show off as much as Jean did. His own style was noticeably more flashy than Yuri’s but the intent was the same. Look at me, their moves commanded. 

            Two hours later when exhaustion had settled into the bones of both skaters, they exited the ice. Isabella sauntered over, face illuminated with pride. The two of them almost exclusively spoke French to one another when they were at competitions. They were deep in conversation when Yuri breezed by them, hair spilling over his shoulders.

            “It’s not your Salchow that needs work,” Yuri’s quietly intelligent eyes swept over him and he gestured to Jean’s left leg. “Your toe loop is looking sloppy,” He told them in perfect French. Then as soon as the advice had been offered, the usual apathetic expression on his face was back. The line that ran between Yuri’s brow was rather famous.

            “Knee injury,” Jean stammered out still shocked by Yuri’s fluency in the French language, it was a different dialect than Quebecois but still pristine.

            “I don’t care!” Yuri grumbled, “But I am supposed to ask you out to dinner for pork cutlet bowl and Victor since you two are the first competitors here.” The offer was grumbled out as if it pained him. Isabella clapped her hands together and accepted the offer immediately. They would meet at seven outside Jean and Isabella’s hotel. Tonight was going to be interesting to say the least.

            When seven rolled around Jean found himself in the backseat with Yuri between him and Isabella. Victor and Yuuri sat in the front seat, their hands intertwined. Isabella eyed them thoughtfully.

            “How has marriage been treating you?” She asked, the only person besides Victor comfortable in any social situation. Victor laughed and squeezed Yuuri’s hands. Beside Jean, Yuri rolled his eyes at the display of affection.

            “Well the Russian government isn’t too fond of our relationship but we do a good job of training their star skaters so they don’t really bother us,” Victor said and Yuuri smiled. Jean’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Most cultures treated soul bonds as something to be revered, leave it to Russia to break tradition.

            “Oh what a load of garbage,” Yuri growled from his seat and glowered at Victor, “I still don’t understand why you would waste time on romance. It’s a frivolous and unneeded.” Jean was surprised at Yuri’s outright denouncement of something so beautiful.

            “Says the boy who spent his entire off season snuggled up with his platonic soulmate on the couch watching movies,” Yuuri Katsuki muttered. The reaction was instant, the blond’s hackles raising in response to the words.

            “Otabek is different,” Yuri snapped, “We’re both dedicated skaters. He understands what it’s like to be in love with your sport not a person.” Jean burst into laughter. Plisetski was really something else.

            “Jean and I are nothing alike but we grew up together,” Isabella smiled, “We just follow each other on our adventures,” She explained. Yuuri Katsuki smiled at her in the rear view mirror.

            “Are you platonic or?” Victor asked and sounded genuinely curious. Jean laughed and shifted in his seat.

            “Completely platonic. My soulmate seems content to make me wait to meet them.” Isabella shot him an affectionate smile. Yuri just huffed and mumbled something about idiots under his breath.

            Come to find out there was one thing that mellowed Yuri Plisetski out and that was wine. After two glasses the blond sank down in his chair, a precious smile playing at his lips. Dinner was excellent; the food gave Jean the energy to converse with Victor who was interested in life in Canada.

            “Victor,” Yuri muttered, voice pitching. He narrowed his eyes and leveled his gaze. “We are not moving to Canada,” The young man sounded scandalized at the mere idea.  The silver haired man smiled at his protégé, but fixed him with a disapproving expression. Jean knew that look. It was meant to silence any arguments that might rise to Yuri’s mind.

            “Why not? Canada is great,” Isabella exclaimed. The blond turned his gaze to her, eyes pleading. Jean took a big gulp of the Merlot sitting in front of him to stifle a laugh.           

            “Because people in Russia leave you alone to go about your day. The last time I skated in Canada at least ten people tried to wish me luck before I even had coffee. There are a number of things that make me angry. That would be number one on my list,” Yuri told Isabella and surprisingly kept venom out of his words. This time Jean did snort in laughter.

            “Chaton, that’s just common courtesy.” The blond sighed and picked up his wine glass. In mere seconds the liquor disappeared down Yuri’s throat.

            “And that is why I hold a general dislike of your people,” Yuri replied.

            After they finished dinner Victor drove them back to the hotel. Yuri’s eyes fluttered, exhaustion getting the better of him. Isabella wasn’t fairing much better, slowly falling asleep against Jean’s shoulder. The night had been interesting as expected but also good. It had been a long time since Jean had felt comfortable around his competitors. When he escorted a blurry eyed Isabella out of the car he waved to Victor and Yuuri and thanked them for their hospitality. Together Jean and Isabella navigated the maze of a hotel, her shoulder bumping against his. Each of their steps fell into line.

            “Plisetski has certainly gotten beautiful,” Isabella commented. It was no secret that she had previously disliked the blond’s rather sour attitude that clashed spectacularly with her own. Jean smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

            “He was good company tonight. Though I expect he will kick into bitch mode here soon. Yuri gets intense during competitions.” After four years of competing against him, Jean knew the blond’s pre-skate habits. A couple days before hand he was much calmer. As soon as the competitors started amassing he gained a deadly edge. Otabek Altin seemed to be the only skater exempt from Yuri’s bite and bitter competitiveness; Jean had not known the two of them were soulmates, but it made sense.

            “Well I hope tonight was good for you too Jean,” Isabella said as they reached her room, “We don’t get much time to enjoy the simple things anymore.” The two of them embraced, a sense of comfort rushed over him and he just breathed in her scent. Roses and vanilla filled his nose.

            “Of course I had a good night,” Jean grinned at her, “Sleep well Izzy,”

            As he was showering Jean was struck by something strange. Yuri Plisetski smelled like mint and eucalyptus. When they sat next to one another in the car Jean had caught the scent. At the time he had thought it was a soothing rub that was meant to calm aching muscles. It was familiar, the same rub he used on his own body. Now Jean wasn’t so sure it was as simple as that. Most people smelled the same to him, their cologne or perfume normally made up the difference. Yuri’s scent had hit him as soon as he had slid into the car. The only person that smelled differently to him was Isabella with her floral and warm vanilla tones. Taking a deep breath he dipped his head into the stream of hot water, trying to clear his muddled senses. It was odd. Yuri Plisetski smelled like home.

            The next morning Jean studied Yuri closer. Otabek’s soul mark was emblazoned in a vermillion splash at the base of Yuri’s neck, a single blossom of jasmine. With his blond hair pulled up it was easy to see. Honestly he didn’t know how he had missed the bold and blatant mark. Jean knew the meaning of the flower, comfort and unspoken elegance. Those things described both Otabek and Yuri quite well. The way Yuri moved on the ice was singular. Each movement was effortless and practiced. Though Jean could easily remember the time in Yuri’s career when his long limbs had been a hindrance. When he had first started growing Yuri was still graceful but his movements had been sluggish. Some of his flexibility had dissipated. Now that he was finished growing, there was a regal quality to the way he skated. There was no record that Yuri didn’t hold at that time. The blond was the king on the ice. Jean still tried to give him a run for his money.

            At midday they paused to take a break. Victor had been advising both of them since Jean was currently coachless. Come to find out Victor Nikiforov was unforgiving as the ice in his instruction. When Victor called for them to break, he was grateful.  Both Jean and Yuri traveled to the locker room. Absent mindedly Jean tugged his sweat soaked shirt over his head, desperate to change into something more comfortable. It was then the clank of a water bottle hitting the ground caught his attention. Yuri was a few feet away staring, eyes wide.

            “Oh hell no!” Rang out across the locker room. Jean was confused until he realized what Yuri was staring at. Startled, he traced the belladonna flowers with his fingertips.

            “What?” Jean asked cautiously, surprised by the reaction. Yuri’s vibrant green eyes narrowed at him and he stormed over to Jean. With angry movements the blond managed to get his own shirt over his head.

            “You do not get to be my fucking soulmate.” It felt like the air was punched out Jean’s lungs. On Yuri’s hip was the same cluster of leaves and belladonna flowers. Collecting his thoughts he met the angry Russian’s gaze.

            “Well that explains a lot.” That might not have been the best thing to say because Yuri’s angry yelling could probably could be heard throughout the entire rink.


	2. Not Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Drink,” Yuri ordered, “I cannot possibly have this conversation until we are both at least buzzed.”

“I paced around for hours on empty  
I jumped at the slightest of sounds  
And I couldn't stand the person inside me  
I turned all the mirrors around

I'm bigger than my body  
I'm colder than this home  
I'm meaner than my demons  
I'm bigger than these bones”

-“Control”, Halsey

              Yuri was silent until he had downed his sixth glass of wine. Jade eyes studied Jean with curious and skittish attentiveness. The two of them barely spoke on their way to Yuri’s apartment. It had been Yuuri Katsuki’s idea. It would be better to talk now than later.

            “Drink,” Yuri ordered, “I cannot possibly have this conversation until we are both at least buzzed.” Jean decided to follow the blond’s advice and just drink straight from the bottle. Yuri didn’t complain. It wasn’t awkward. Both them were too surprised to say anything. Or maybe the two of them had too much to say. The liquor burned down Jean’s throat but no more than what was threatening than the words ready spill out of it. Romantic soulmates had a constant pull towards one another; it was likely why Jean and Yuri always got assigned to the same events. The universe was showing them the middle finger. Their rivalry suddenly meant so much more. Years of biting comments and bitter banter came flooding back to him. Jean hadn’t exactly been kind to Yuri. Belladonna was poisonous and beautiful. In the end he had been right about his soulmate being elegant and vicious.

            The bottle passed between the two of them over the course of a couple hours. The silence was filled with the soft tones of piano music filtering through the speakers of Yuri’s apartment. When his mind was calm Jean finally spoke.

            “So how do you want to go about this?” He asked. Yuri was sitting opposite him, leaned back against the wall. They sat in the long hallway between the living room and the Russian’s bedroom.

            “I don’t,” Yuri grumbled, “I don’t want to go anywhere with this.” Jean felt something in his heart break. It was rare but sometimes one soulmate would refuse the other; the results were rarely pleasant. Jean sincerely hoped that this was not one of those situations.

            “Ever or just for now?” He asked the blond. Yuri pursed his lips together. The expression was weighted.

             “First of all skating is my entire life. It is how I provide for my grandfather. Nothing, not romance and not my soulmate will get in the way of that. Second I live in Russia and they do not care whether you are bonded or not. Homosexuality is damned. I could lose sponsors or even worse my status as an athlete. A relationships is not in the books right now.” The words rang out across Jean’s ears. Yuri might not be rejecting him but he also was refusing to take this any further. For a minute he considered his words carefully. Yuri could be skittish when things were uncertain.

             “You smell like mint and eucalyptus. You smell like home Yuri. I noticed it the other night when we were going to the restaurant to eat. If I had realized what that meant then I would have kept this to myself. I respect that you want to keep this private. You’re young and I would never expect you to give up on your career. But please just give this a chance,” There was a distinct waver to his words, one Jean couldn’t erase. Yuri huffed in response. Yet there was a cautious curiosity to his gaze.

            “What do you want from me?” Yuri asked. For a moment Jean couldn’t think of a single thing. Then he pictured what life would be like if the Yuri rejected him. It wasn’t a pretty picture.

            “Whatever you’re willing to give me,”

            The next day at practice Isabella, Victor, and Yuuri all looked worried. The two skaters were moving around the rink and it was clear that the unresolved tension between the two was eating away at them. After Yuri’s sixth failed jump, Victor pulled the blond off the ice and told him they were going home. Yuuri had the Russian’s duffle bag already in hand. Surprisingly Yuri didn’t fight them, just nodded. When they got to the Nikiforovs’ apartment, Victor was bracing himself for an argument. Instead Yuri flung himself down on their grey couch and tugged a fleece blanket over the top of him.

            “Can you read to me?” Yuri asked Victor. It was something he had done for the Russian boy when he was feeling particularly anxious in his youth. Beside him, Yuuri pressed a kiss to Victor’s jaw and made his way to the kitchen.

            “Of course.” Victor snagged To Kill a Mockingbird off the coffee table and settled at Yuri’s feet.  Gently he tugged Yuri’s legs over the top of his own.

            As Victor read big green eyes started to get heavy. Yuri had a lot of issues that were being brought to the surface by the soulmate situation. Like Victor, Yuri hadn’t had a very happy childhood. Though he didn’t speak about it, Yuri’s father had been abusive and his mother had been a drug addict. In his early to mid-teens Yuri had struggled with anger, depression, and self-image. There was also some body dysmorphia that had been particularly painful; there were days when Yuri simply refused to eat or just threw up what he did consume. Through it all Victor had been mostly silent, offering him quiet support by giving him a warm home and judgement free company. Yuuri had been the one to talk to the little Russian, his own struggles with anxiety provided him insight. Between Victor and Yuuri they had somehow managed to keep the boisterous teenager alive with some help from Yakov. It had been years since Victor has seen Yuri as afraid as he was when Jean was revealed as his soulmate. Neither he nor Yuuri would force Yuri to talk about it. They would just be there.

            When soft snores filled the room, Victor eased himself out from under the blond and made his way into the kitchen. Yuuri was standing at the stove top, glass of wine in hand. When Victor drew near he passed him the glass without prompting.

            “I need to call Chris,” Victor said and ran a hand through his hair. It was getting long again, reaching almost his shoulders. Yuuri nodded and tilted his chin up so that he could press a soft kiss to Victor’s lips. Warmth and reassuring peace rolled over him in waves.

            “Go on,” Yuuri smiled, “Dinner won’t be ready for another hour or so.” So Victor made his way to their bedroom and settled himself on the bed. Picking up the phone, he dialed Chris’s number.

            “Bonjour Chris,” Victor greeted. There was the soft sound of a sigh exiting the Swiss man’s mouth. Absentmindedly he rubbed his ribs where the Chris’s pink sweet pea blossoms rested; they were warm and exuded bliss. Victor was unique in that he was empathetic to what his soulmates were feeling. It was an uncommon gift but one that he was thankful for. It was also a gift Chris shared with him; the two of them were remarkably in tune with one another.

            “Tell me, what has the infamous Victor Nikiforov feeling anxious?” Chris spoke softly. Where to even begin?

            “Well little Yuri Plisetski found his soulmate,” Victor just decided to jump straight to the point. Chris always liked it when Victor was more direct.

            “Really?” Chris sounded surprised, “Who is it?” That was what had Victor rather nervous.

            “Jean Leroy,” Victor answered. The Canadian was loud, competitive, and sometimes unintentionally cruel. That didn’t mean Jean was a bad person, just careless.

            “Well if that isn’t ironic.” Chris laughed openly and warm, “Those two have always been one of a kind.” He blinked in surprise at his soulmate’s words. The two were nothing alike in Victor’s eyes. Jean was arrogant and selfish. Yuri was talented and compassionate once you dug past the surface.

            “What do you mean?” Victor questioned, voice dipping low. He felt the need to jump to Yuri’s defense in situations like this.

            “Both of them are insecure in their own abilities even though they portray themselves with regal grace. Sure Jean is flashy and loud but Yuri draws your attention in the same way. They’re both volatile, like a firecracker ready to go off.” Chris explained in his soothing way, “I have watched the two of them grow up, and I am bit more objective than you. If you watch them interact, they don’t move as opposing forces. They move as a single unit. When Jean pushes, Yuri moves quickly in response. When Yuri pulls, Jean is ready to follow.” Come to think of it Victor had noticed it at dinner the other night. When Jean was quick to throw banter Yuri’s way, the blond had responded with easy wit. Throughout the night the two had gradually gotten closer, never touching but moving side by side.

            “Yuri isn’t happy,” Victor stated. Laughter burst from Chris’s mouth and Victor cracked a smile.

            “In all the years I have known Yuri never once has he been happy with what life throws at him. Just do what you do best and love him,”

            They were half way through dinner when Yuri slammed his fork down and fixed Victor and Yuuri with a glare. The pinch was back between his brow and the corner of his lip twisted into a displeased pout.

            “I can feel both of you worrying, stop it!” He ordered at the two of them. Yuuri and Victor were no longer fazed by his yelling. “We talked and it went fine!” That was Yuri’s way of telling them indirectly that he wanted to talk about it but had no idea how to.

            “What did you say to him?” Yuuri asked, pushing up his glasses. Green eyes rolled and the blond slouched down in his chair. There were little blond hairs sticking out every which way from the braid that Yuri had over his shoulder.

            “I told him that anything romantic is off the table right now,” Yuri told them. Victor shot his husband a rather panicked look. If Jean saw that as a rejection then things could quickly go from uncomfortable to dangerous. When one soulmate rejected the other, the rejected party could get very ill.

            “Did you discuss spending time together? Maybe talking again?” Yuuri tried to gently pry the information out of the Russian sitting across from him. Victor sighed in relief when Yuri nodded.

            “I’m not stupid,” Yuri said the words like they left a nasty taste in his mouth, “Jean is not my favorite person but I also really don’t want to be responsible for making him sick. So I’ve agreed to keep in contact with him,” Well at least he was putting some effort into it.

            “Yuri, just be careful. Not everyone has the kind of emotional armor you do.” Yuuri said softly as not to aggravate him. There was something like a smile on the Russian’s face, one so soft Victor almost missed it.

            “Jean isn’t the weak one,” Yuri answered thoughtfully and his words carried more weight to them than anything else he had said that night.

            Nathalie Leroy rarely saw her son look sad. Even as a baby he had been all smiles. When she had arrived in Russia her son was heartbroken and anxious. Yuri Plisetski had shattered her son into a million unfixable pieces. The two of them were on the ice, avoiding crossing each other’s paths. The Nikiforovs looked equally as alarmed by the two of them as she did. An hour into practiced the mood shifted. Suddenly Yuri was skating aggressive circles and his jumps were reckless. Jean was equally as riled up. Her son was jumping higher and moving faster that what was normal for practice.

            “Oh they’re sharing,” Victor Nikiforov muttered nervously under his breath. Nathalie approached and placed her hand on the center of the tall Russian’s shoulder.

            “What does that mean?” She questioned him, eyes tracing the lines of his face.

            “It’s a rare trait where the people bonded together share emotions and in some cases even thoughts. Myself and Christophe Giacometti can do it. Yuuri and I do it on an even deeper level. It’s rare for sharing to happen so early into a relationship but if the emotions are strong enough then I suppose it makes sense. Those two are going to be unbearable or get themselves hurt at this rate.” As if on cue Yuri launched into a quad and fell to the ice. Jean skidded to a stop and then took off towards the other side of the rink. When he reached Yuri, he bent down to help the blond to his feet. As soon as their hands made contact with one another it was like the world came to a screeching halt. Both of them looked at one another, eyes wide. They were silent. Everyone on the side of the rink waited, not daring to breathe. The dam broke. Yuri ducked his chin and tears slipped from his eyes falling to the ice. Nathalie Leroy had seen her son look sad a handful of times, that day she got to see him staring brokenly at the boy who was meant to love him.

            Somehow Jean had managed to get Yuri into the locker room, practically carrying him. His heart was racing with anxiety and rage that were most certainly not his own. It felt like glass being shoved into his heart. Sobs wracked Yuri’s body, violently shaking his shoulders. Jean settled him down on the bench and then pressed his palms to either side of Yuri’s neck; thumbs rested gently on the blond’s tear streaked face.

            “Stop it.” Yuri bit his lip and reached up to grab one of Jean’s wrists, “Stop it. I can feel you-” Another sob choked off the rest of his sentence. From where he was crouched before Yuri, he could see that his eyes were squeezed shut.

            “Yuri,” Jean murmured. This reaction was not what he had been expecting. Yuri was angry and as unforgiving as ice.  So when he had started crying in the middle of the rink with wide eyes, Jean had been shocked. The whole situation left him feeling overwhelmed and not unlike drowning. The two of them had no idea what to say to one another. It had been his touch that had sent Yuri over the edge. It had sent a rush of emotions that belonged to Yuri through his body, echoes of fears long forgotten. Those fears had felt fresh and raw. There had been flashes of memories, unimaginable pain. Jean understood now, Yuri’s refusal to take their relationship further. The memories had screamed of abandonment. They had showed Jean images of a dark haired man dragging Yuri, still just a child,  by his hair to the bathroom to cut the long blond locks away. They had shown him pictures of a woman with golden hair and glassy eyes overdosing with a syringe still in her arm. It explained so much about Yuri’s dislike of the idea of having a soulmate. Life had shown him little of love or compassion. Those emotions had been foreign until he was far into his teens. Jean understood what he symbolized to Yuri. Jean symbolized something Yuri thought he could never have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was bit more somber and serious but I hope you all enjoyed. Just a fun fact Phichit is Yuuri's platonic soulmate. Their soul mark is on their sternums and is a dark indigo delphinium. Delphinium symbolizes affection, playful levity, and an open heart.
> 
> I can't wait to hear from you all!  
> -Avery


	3. I Want Nothing and Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otabek Altin had been dealing with Yuri Plisetski’s shit for four years. He loved Yuri unconditionally. That being said there was only so much angst a person could handle.

"You lift my heart up  
When the rest of me is down  
You, you enchant me, even when you're not around  
If there are boundaries, I will try to knock them down  
I’m latching on babe  
Now I know what I have found

Now I got you in my space  
I won’t let go of you  
Got you shackled in my embrace  
I’m latching on to you"

-"Latch", Disclosure

            Otabek Altin had been dealing with Yuri Plisetski’s shit for four years. He loved Yuri unconditionally. That being said there was only so much angst a person could handle. When he arrived outside his soulmates apartment, Otabek used his spare key to let himself in. The apartment was a mess, shattered glass against the kitchen floor. Apparently something had happened in-between the last update he got and now. Yuri was volatile but he was rarely destructive. The Russian in question was lying on the couch, long limbs splayed carelessly. Otabek rested his arms on the back of the couch and leaned over the blond. His face was tear streaked and Yuri reeked of alcohol, tequila to be specific. That was what he drank when he didn’t really want to remember something the next day.

            “How’s my favorite storm cloud?” Otabek asked and ran his finger through tangled golden hair. Yuri cracked an eye at him and snorted. Jumping over the back of the couch, Otabek made sure he landed right on Yuri’s lap and stretched out over the top of him.

            “Fucking JJ and I accidentally shared today,” Yuri grumbled and brought the bottle of tequila to his lips. “He saw something he had no business seeing.” Otabek tugged the bottle from Yuri’s dangerously strong grip and lifted it. The vile liquor poured down his throat and burned, but if Yuri was drunk Otabek would follow him.

            “What did he see?” Otabek muttered, honestly curious. Snuggling back against the cushions, Yuri shifted Otabek until his nose was pressed into the curve of Yuri’s neck and his body rested comfortably next to his own.

            “My dad,” Now Otabek understood why the blond was drunk. If there was one person that made Yuri angry, it was his father; if he ever saw the man, Otabek wouldn’t hesitate to kill him. What Marcus Plisetski had done to his son and wife was inexcusable and insidious.

            “How about I run a bath and you can catch me up on everything that happened over the last couple of days.” Yuri nodded, pressing his lips to Otabek’s temple.

            With Yuri settled in the warm water Otabek listened to him rehash the events of the previous days.  The twisting Belladonna around Yuri’s left hip made so much sense. In comparison their soul mark was emblazoned and bold. Personally he would have expected Jean and Yuri’s to have been the same. The little flowers were subtle but poised around the curve of the bone like a lover’s fingers.

            “When he touched me I could feel everything he felt Beka,” Yuri murmured as Otabek rubbed shampoo through his blond locks. “It was overwhelming and startling.” Yuri never did well with emotions, much less intense ones.

            “What did you feel?” He asked the blond who was leaning into his touch. For a moment there was a calm silence.

            “I felt angry that he was seeing things he shouldn’t but at the same time I felt relieved. Years of my life that I don’t talk about were just laid out in front of him. There was no need for an explanation.” Yuri’s voice was filled with innocent vulnerability. “He felt like a warm and welcoming fire after being left out in the cold.” With gentle movements he rinsed the blond hair and rested his chin on the edge of the tub, jade eye peering up at Otabek.

            “Maybe you should go talk to him. Things can only get better from here on out. JJ knows things about you, things that have probably given him some clarity. After your bath I could drive you over to his hotel,” Otabek offered. Yuri nodded in agreement. Crying always made him more level headed.

            Yuri stood outside Jean’s door nervously. There were too many reasons for him to simply not knock. A soft gasp to his side caught his attention. Isabella stood at the end of the hall, eyes wide.

            “You can knock you know,” She said, her voice reminded him of bells. “Jean is really torn up about earlier. “ She came to stand by him, her hand slowly sliding up to touch his bicep. To his surprise, she didn’t try and press her hand into his skin. Instead Isabella kept the touch light as if to say ‘I’m here’ without overwhelming him. Yuri was a tactile person but appreciated the care Isabella put into the touch.

            “I-I, can you do it for me? Stay until he opens the door? Because I might bolt,” Yuri stammered. The kind woman smiled at it was calming. Isabella raised her hand and rapt lightly at the door. It took a few moments before it swung open. Jean appeared at the door, hair messy and eyes tired.

            “Look who I found haunting the hallway,” Isabella spoke cheerfully but her tone spoke volumes. With a gentle squeeze, she released Yuri’s arm and continued down the hall. “If you need me, I’m just a phone call away. I mean it!”

            Yuri practically darted into Jean’s room, hands picking nervously at a spot on his wrist. An old habit from an unhealthy portion of his life. The heavy door to the room shut. The two of them were alone with each other. Yuri could sense trepidation and longing from Jean. As well as an innate desire to reach out for him.

            “You smell like bergamot and fresh apples,” Yuri told him, voice quiet. “Sometime I even catch the scent of a Russian olive.” Jean came to stand in front of him, eyes dancing with something like surprise. The trepidation was gone and in its stead was curiosity.

            “Yuri, I am so sorry.” Jean reached out, his hand not making contact with him but resting inches from his skin. Taking a deep breath, Yuri reached out and guided Jean’s hand to rest over his heart. Clicking his tongue, Yuri continued.

            “You know more about me now than Otabek does,” He told the tall Canadian, “You saw things that I had long since repressed. I spent years hating those memories. There are plenty of things people should apologize to me for but what happened today was not one of them. You are not my abusive father. You are not my drug addict mother. You are my soulmate whether I want you to be or not. We are supposed to provide one another with love, affection, and wholeness. So don’t you dare apologize to me Jean,” Yuri’s words held a strong conviction not even he had expected. Jean reached out with his free hand and brushed the back of his fingers against Yuri’s angular cheek.

            “Alright chaton,” The term of endearment sliding easily off his tongue.

            They sat side by side on the king sized bed, knees bumping. Jean spoke of his life in Canada, of sprawling cities and interesting food. He told Yuri about his fears. The relentless desire he had to win. The whole time Yuri was silent save for an occasion noise to acknowledge he was still listening. Feeling bold, Yuri placed the tips of his fingers atop Jean’s. There was a shaky exhale from the older man. Yuri turned his gaze to meet the eyes that had somehow captured an ocean within their depths. It took the breath straight out of his chest.

            “I was meaning to ask, why did I see your memories earlier?” Jean asked. Yuri looked astonished but got a cocky grin on his face.

            “We’re able to share,” Yuri told him and leaned farther into the fluffy pillow behind him, “There isn’t really any data as to how rare the ability is but I’ve only met two bonded pairs who can do it. Victor and Yuuri are the most obvious example; that’s probably the reason why they’re insufferable. Otabek can do it with Mila, let me tell you that is hilarious to watch.” Jean grew thoughtful and drew slow circles on Yuri’s palm.

            “But what is it?” Jean rephrased the question. Sharing someone’s thoughts and emotions was intimate and lovely. It also felt like an invasion of privacy, especially when Yuri was so private about his personal life.

            “On a basic level sharing is able to happen because we operate on the same wavelength, our souls have the same frequency. That means we can share emotions; that can be used as a defense mechanism, knowing when your soulmate is in trouble or feeling anxious. On a much deeper level and even rarer are those who can share thoughts and memories. Things can get a little interesting on that front because it means no secrets. It also allows for the sharing of…pleasure. When something feels good for one person, it will amplify the other person’s own pleasure.” Yuri was surprisingly knowledgeable. The ability to share was so rare that Jean hadn’t even heard of it before. Sharing sounded pleasant enough even if their earlier incident had not been a shining example of that.

            “Huh, so it makes sex even better?” Jean asked and Yuri’s head whipped to the side. Lovely green eyes narrowed at Jean.

            “Really? That’s what you took out of all of this?” Yuri growled. The line between his brow was back and it made Jean smile. Laughing, he brought Yuri’s hand to his lips and kissed the knuckles. That seemed to make the blond soften slightly.

            “Can I try and share memories with you?” Jean asked and Yuri blinked in surprise.

            “Until we have a bit more practice we won’t be able to control it,” Yuri mumbled, “So don’t be surprised if you touch me and get random flashes. Victor told me the first few times are really really intense, so just be prepared.”

            “Alright Chaton.” Jean smiled and a wave of warmth fell over him like a blanket. They talked for a bit more and after another hour Yuri fell asleep. His head rested on Jean’s shoulder, little warm breaths against Jean’s neck sent him into dream land after him.

            Come to find out sharing was not only intense, it was outright inconvenient. Jean and Yuri were both kicking into full gear now that the competition was few days away. Their fiercely competitive natures were getting amplified. Jean felt jittery and on edge, never in all his years of skating had he felt so geared up. It wasn’t even the final and he was ready to destroy anyone who got in his way. Jean also discovered that Yuri got pleasure out of watching him skate. It curled warm and hot at the base of his spine, pride and maybe a little hint of unabashed attraction. It was the same for him, Yuri skating was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. While Yuri skated the complex choreography through his free skate, Jean stood on the side of the rink with his arms resting on the wall. There was a sensuality to the curve of Yuri’s back. It didn’t even take a wild imagination to know how he could put the blond’s flexibility to good use. When Yuri stepped off the ice he shot Jean a look that had his skin burning. Those eyes were dangerous. In passing, Yuri brushed the tips of his fingers against the back of Jean’s hand. A wave of pleasure ran through him, sharp and hot. That was the pull people talked about. It was so different than he had imagined. Jean took to the ice and tried desperately to stop blushing.

            After practice they ended up at Yuri’s apartment. It looked freshly cleaned and smelled like citrus cleanser.  Yuri offered to cook and Jean readily agreed. He was tired, but was entranced watching the Russian move about the kitchen.

            “Chaton.” Everything Jean had been about to say came to a screeching halt when he felt a spark of arousal from Yuri. The blond whipped his head around, eyes pleading for Jean to leave it alone. A mischievous grin crept across his features. “Yuri do you like it when I call you Chaton?” Jean teased. The blond buried his face in his hands, the tips of his ears lighting up.

            “Don’t,” Yuri muttered weakly and removed his hands from his face. The blush dusted his cheeks and the tip of his nose. It was then that Jean noticed the small smattering of freckles on Yuri’s nose and cheeks.

            “Why not? If it’s something you like I’m just going to keep doing it.” That earned Jean a rather dirty look. It occurred to Jean that Yuri was likely a virgin. The boy was assured in his personality but there was a hint of innocence to his sexuality.  It wasn’t considered uncommon to have sex with someone who wasn’t your soulmate in your teens. Jean had done it, but it had been empty and lackluster. It had been years since the last time he had shared his body with another person.

            “Because I don’t know what do when a single word makes me…squirm,” Yuri uttered. Jean was on his feet and moving into the kitchen, coming to a stop before the blond. When he touched Yuri’s neck he received flashes of memories that were searing. _Head tipped back and blond hair spilling over black cotton sheets. Pleasure thrumming through veins like fire. Moans filling the quiet apartment._ When the images stopped coming Yuri stared at Jean. Closing the distance he pressed the lips together. Yuri’s fingers wound their way into his hair and tugged. One of Jean’s hand slid down to grip Yuri’s ass and the other rested on their soul mark. In a not so gentle movement Jean nipped at Yuri’s lip and broke away.

            “Chaton, I am going to be doing everything in my power to make you squirm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy! Just as brief request can I please get a native French speaker to email me at Lazydeskwriting@yahoo.com. I need some stuff translated for me! It would be greatly appreciated!
> 
> I can't wait to hear from you!!!!!  
> -Avery


	4. Please Just For Once

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Put up or shut up.

 

"Haven't had a dream in a long time  
See, the life I've had  
Can make a good man bad

So for once in my life  
Let me get what I want  
Lord knows, it would be the first time  
Lord knows, it would be the first time"

"Please, please let me get what I want,"

                Competitors were now at the rink and fans were showing up in droves. The Russian rink was Yuri’s home but it was so different when people swarmed in. There was a thrum in the air, excitement. Jean watched Yuri skate around Otabek, talking animatedly about something. The bright light illuminated his face, highlighting the fine lines of cheeks and jaw. It made him look younger, angelic.

            “You look like a love sick puppy,” Nathalie said, coming to stand by her son. Jean flashed her a grin. His mother was supportive of him in everything that he did. The two of them were close. Jean honestly wouldn’t know what to do without the support of his mother; she was like a tiny sun, warm and bright.

            “I think it’s something like love.” Jean’s eyes trailed up and down the blond’s body. Nathalie smiled and got on her tip toes to kiss his cheek. It had been such a long time since he had dreamed of something more for himself then skating. Yuri Plisetski had consumed his life. There were still hang-ups. The Russian was slow to return physical affection but when he did it was like being swept away in a flood. Yuri’s kissed Jean like he was the only thing worth his time, attentive and adoring. Jean wanted nothing more than to lie down next to him and never move again. He could spend a life time just watching Yuri.

            The shock of his life came on the ice when Mila skated up to Jean whispering something particularly interesting in his ear.

            “That boy is just like a kitten,” She murmured, “Slow to warm up to you but loves being pampered. Yuri always wants to be praised.” Without another word, she darted off towards Otabek. The stoic man shot Jean a wink and wrapped his arm around Mila. Otabek was a few inches shorter than her and the two were painfully endearing. Jean hadn’t expected such a warm welcome from Yuri’s best friend but he was willing to take what he could get. The advice Mila gave him didn’t get put into use until a little later. Tomorrow the Rostelecom cup would begin. The two of them were more than ready for the start but had chosen to spend their evening together. Yuri was changing his shirt and Jean was pleased that Yuri was comfortable enough to change around him now.

            “You’re beautiful,” Jean told the blond. The words had the desired effect and a blush dusted Yuri’s cheeks. When he stood up from his place on Yuri’s bed, Jean traced a finger of the soul mark. Yuri’s body shifted to push into the touch. When he was reacting to something Jean had said with physical affection it gave him a sense of pride.

            “And you need to stop saying things like that,” Yuri grumbled but there was no weight to his words. Jean leaned in and pressed light kisses to the edge of Yuri’s jaw. Jade eyes closed and the blond relaxed into his touch. Things like this were so simple but they made whatever their relationship was worth it.

            With leading hands Jean lead them into a slow dance. The apartment was silence save for the soft breaths Yuri was breathing against him. They moved to the music only the two of them heard. It felt good to simply have Yuri near him. The blond inhaled sharply as memories from his senior debut echoed across his mind. Jean had been watching him even then. _Back arched and leg pulled over his head. A braid falling out of place. The hard tempo of a piano melding with the sound of a cello, accented by the pounding of a drum. Yuri’s face flushed red from exertion._ It was odd to look back and see himself appear so young. Some days he missed how agile he had been.

            “Watching you win the Grand Prix that year was incredible chaton,” Jean murmured, their bodies still moving in time to their silent music. Yuri snorted in response.

            “I was happy to win,” The blond cracked a smirk, “But I will admit I only managed to do so out of spite. My last free skate was fueled by rage and fierce competitiveness rather than the will to win. Not to mention that I hated Allegro Appassionato. That piece still haunts me,” He admitted. Jean laughed and stroked Yuri’s cheek.

            “Yuri Plisetski, you are like a forest fire or hurricane. You’re dangerous and yet you also carry yourself with undefinable grace. You were the only person there that deserved to win,” Jean’s compliments were laced with pride. Those eight months that he had trained had been the worst and best in his life. Most days he felt like his limbs would simply give up and die. “Mostly I wanted to make sure Yuuri and Victor had to wait a year to get married. Fuckers ended up hitched three months later anyways.” Yuri scoffed but there was an affectionate tone to his voice. Jean remembered the ridiculous wedding announcement. He also remembered that Yuri had been suckered into the position of Groom’s man. That year had been exciting for skating.

            Later when they settled down, Yuri was still restless. There was a twitch in his foot and he kept pushing his long hair out of his eyes. Jean noticed but chose not to say anything.

            “I need to shower,” Yuri stated firmly and looked Jean dead in the eyes, “I won’t be motivated to do it in the morning. You’re welcome to join me.” He was off the bed before Jean could even speak. Yuri moved to the bathroom and his shirt came over his head, exposing the soft musculature of his back. Jean was standing up before he could really think it through. When Yuri noticed him following close behind, a shy smile appeared on his face.

            “Are you sure about this?” Jean asked him before removing any of his own clothing. Yuri shot him a look that expressed his distaste at the comment.

            “If I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t have asked you.” In a single motion Yuri stripped out of his athletic shorts and boxers. Jean had to focus for a moment to remember how to breathe…or think for that matter. Yuri was spectacular, toned muscles and refined grace. With a deep breath he managed to remove his own clothing. Jade eyes trailed his every movement. Jean knew Yuri had an eidetic memory and was clearly saving the images of his body for later. Leaning forward Jean caught Yuri’s lips and reveled in the way the blond melted into his touch. With Jean’s hand at the small of his back, Yuri had to arch pleasantly into his body. Skin made contact with skin and Jean forced himself to part from Yuri with a final swipe of his tongue against those full lips.  

            “Let’s get in the shower, yeah?” Jean managed to form a semblance of words. Yuri laughed warmly, the giggle was immediately filed under Jean’s new favorite sound. The two of them softened around each other, stepping outside their comfort zones. Maneuvering gracefully into the shower Yuri allowed himself to get drenched, gold hair falling over his eyes. With a playful gesture he swept it away from his face and gave Jean a genuine smile.

            “Don’t worry about keeping your hands to yourself,” Yuri grinned, looking younger. “I won’t be,”

            As they showered Yuri sent a silent prayer to universe. _Please, just this once let me have something. Let him stay by my side. Please don’t let him leave me._ Abandonment was a familiar theme in his life. The first had been his father, though that had been a relief. Then his mother killed herself with Heroin running through her veins. Jean had become something like a breath of fresh air. It was intoxicating to just be near him. It had been so long since he had felt something so hopeful. It had been so long since he allowed himself to feel anything at all. The intimacy between the two of them was white hot but the moments in between made him yearn for something more. Something he almost dared to admit he wanted. So Yuri prayed to the universe for mercy. There had to be a first for everything.

            They began their exploration of each other’s bodies. The heat of the water was heavenly, easing aching muscles. Jean stood behind Yuri, body slotted against the younger man’s perfectly. Boldly he ran his hands down Yuri’s chest, studying the plains of muscles. Yuri’s breath caught and then he let out a shaky moan when Jean’s fingertips caught on one of his nipples. Jean bit down at the juncture of Yuri’s neck and drew a louder, needier, moan. It was intoxicating to have his soulmate’s body so close to his own. They were sharing and things were moving steadily ahead into unexplored territory. The waves of arousal and pleasure Yuri experience at Jean’s hand came back to him. There was warmth that spread across his body that had nothing to do with the hot water.

            “God the things I want to do to you,” Jean growled against Yuri’s neck. The blond tipped his head back against his shoulder, eyes dancing with mischief. That was never a good sign.

            “Put up or shut up,” Yuri sneered at him.

            Spinning Yuri around, Jean forced the blond to look him directly in the eyes. The breath caught in the younger man’s throat. Suddenly Yuri’s challenge meant a lot more than simple competitiveness. Jean backed him against the wall and Yuri keened.

            “Careful Yuri,” Jean warned. The older man wasn’t going to push this. Jean wanted their first time to be pleasurable. Despite what Yuri was insinuating, Jean would not fuck him in the shower. He certainly wouldn’t fuck him the day before a competition. The thing was that Yuri Plisetski was a force of nature; he burned hotter and brighter than anyone else around him. When Yuri wanted something he wouldn’t stop until he got it. As they spent more time together Jean noticed that even though Yuri was assertive, he desperately wanted to give up control. It was also fairly obvious that he had no idea how to ask.

            “I knew you were only talk.” Yuri growled but was stopped short when Jean situated his thigh between Yuri’s legs. Adding pressure caused the blond to roll his hips forward. Suddenly a teasing touch backfired magnificently. The pleasure Yuri got was his own, coiling around him. It knocked the air straight from Jean’s lungs. Come to find out it wasn’t beneficial to tease your sort of boyfriend in the shower.

            The next day Yuri completely avoided Jean and that was fine. The two of them were soulmates but today they were also competitors. The blond stayed glued to Otabek though, following the older boy around the rink with religious dedication. Neither of their costumes covered their vermillion marks, even the commentators managed to catch the bond. Many athletes chose to hide their soul marks, affording their soulmate some anonymity. Otabek and Yuri were private by nature but this was a quiet declaration of love. By the end of warm ups they were the talk of the rink. Turns out Yuri had one more surprise in store for the world. The costume he was wearing exposed the sliver of skin where Jean’s mark rested. Where the material slit to show the skin was done so elegantly. Yuri had never shown much skin in competition, so this was definitely a first. To say that Jean and the people who were close with Yuri were surprised was an understatement. Yuri’s theme had been sensuality and transformation; the recent discovery that Jean was his soulmate had clearly spurred him to make a last minute costume change. Otabek came to Jean right as Yuri took the ice.

            “Your doing?” The Kazakhstani man questioned, voice free of accusations. Jean swallowed and shook his head. Seeing that little patch of skin exposed was like a dare. Ask me for more, it seemingly asked. The audience murmured, the commentator’s speculated, and Jean felt utterly taken aback. This was Yuri’s not so subtle way of accepting Jean.

            “Help me,” Jean murmured and Otabek placed a strong hand on his bicep to keep him upright. As Yuri launched into a quad toe loop Jean made sure that the younger skater knew what he was feeling. A smirk danced across the blond’s features.

            Yuri Plisetski set another world record. Victor spun him around and Yuri smiled brightly in joy. If he was going to play dirty Jean would give him a fight for first place. On the ice Jean devoted himself to making it the performance of a lifetime. It was mostly a blur but he could feel Yuri’s insistence. The blond was standing at the sidelines, eyes never leaving Jean. After all was said and done Jean stepped off the ice and blew Yuri a kiss. It earned him a disapproving glower but Jean didn’t care; the two of them had been like that for years, no one would notice the difference. When the scores were announced Jean was pleased to see that he and Yuri had a mere point three difference in their programs. Jean sincerely hoped that his score lit a fire under Yuri’s ass. Apparently he was successful because the blond stormed over to him, eyes ablaze.

            “Next time try and not get turned on. That might help.” Yuri didn’t hesitate before slapping his ass and it took a considerable amount of willpower not to retaliate.

            In the end Yuri was still in first and Jean was following close behind in second. The two of them sat together at the day one press conference alongside Otabek who was currently in third. All of them were trying to appear as if they weren’t spectacularly bored.

            “A question for Mr. Plisetski,” A journalist that sat in the middle of the room raised his pen into the air. “You showed you soul marks to the world today. Can you confirm their identities?” To Jean’s surprise Yuri leaned forward and answered with practiced ease.

            “Otabek Altin is my platonic soulmate, we have known each other for years. Neither one of us has hid that from the public eye, simply put no one has noticed. As for my romantic soulmate, I am not comfortable giving away their identity without speaking to them on the matter first.” The answer was short, sweet, and to the point.

            “Mr. Plisetski is your romantic soulmate another skater? Are they a male or a female? Does the political climate in Russia have you hesitating to give away their identity? Are you attempting mask your sexual orientation?” A female reporter towards the front asked. The moment froze and Jean saw the look in Yuri’s eye fierce and unrivaled in intensity. The blond’s jaw clenched and unclenched and that was all Jean got to experience before Yuri Plisetski managed to unleash hell on the skating world.

            “There are a number of reasons that I have chosen to keep my soulmate’s identity private. Over the years I have made no attempt to hide that I am attracted to men. The political climate is volatile in regards to LGBT rights but I comfortable informing you that I am gay...” Yuri paused and looked to Jean. The Canadian nodded in agreement to what was about to happen. “Seeing as my soulmate is content if I spew this rather frivolous information to you, if you must know Jean-Jacques Leroy is my soulmate.” The flashes of the camera were blinding. Despite his calm voice Yuri was panicking. Jean gripped the blond’s knee under the table and squeezed. Yuri shot him a thankful look. Otabek placed his hand on Yuri’s shoulder, a more open sign of affection. Jean knew Yuri Plisetski loved to surprise his audience but this took it to a new level. Sure he was happy that Yuri had been the one to make their relationship public knowledge, but above all else Jean was proud. It took guts to do what his soulmate had done.

            After all was said and done Victor and Nathalie led them out of the venue. Jean had his arm wrapped Yuri, trying to afford the younger man any form of protection he could. Jean was surprised at how calm Yuri was, taking everything in stride.

            “Well Yuri, you’ve certainly taken about ten years off mine and Yakov’s lives.” The blond clicked his tongue and scowled at Victor. The phone in his pocket had been buzzing relentlessly for the last hour; the grumpy old Russian trying desperately to get ahold of his student. Even though Yakov was technically still his coach, the old man took a more passive role. Yakov mostly contributed fine tuning to his finished programs rather than actually choreographing them. There was more to it than simple shock value. Jean instinctively knew that Yuri was prepared for the backlash. One of the Russian’s major qualities was his ability to predict the numerous ways a situation could play out. Whatever happened next Yuri was prepared for it. Everyone already knew Jean’s sexuality. He was ready for whatever the world threw at him.

            “Victor,” Yuri shot a look to the silver haired man’s husband, “Yuuri, I just want to go out to eat and drink copious amounts of alcohol. Can we do that?” Jean laughed at his soulmates rather sour expression. Victor nodded and slid his arm around Yuuri; clearly tonight had brought up some unpleasant memories for the Russian coach as well.

            “Yes,” Victor paused to look at Nathalie who nodded in agreement, “We most certainly can,”

            They sat down to eat and Jean immediately felt better. Having Yuri and his mother there decreased his anxiety tenfold. It had been years since it felt hard to breathe at the mere possibility of things that were out of his control. Barcelona had been the last time Jean had a panic attack. Yuri’s soothing hand on his shoulder was more than enough to comfort him. If his soulmate was content then Jean could be too. The warm meal and liquor had Yuri curling into his side, breathing slow and even. Half way through their meal Otabek and Mila joined them. The Kazakhstani man ran a hand over Yuri’s hair in greeting. The two muttered something low and private under their breath. Mila smiled at Jean, her eyes soft and gentle. The red headed Russian reminded him of Isabella. Oh jesus, he had forgotten to call Isabella. He could only imagine what she was thinking; it was likely the tiny woman was cursing his name for the hot mess that had been the press conference. Yet with Yuri tucked up against him none of that mattered.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was too much fun for me. I love the idea the Yuri prays to the universe for something more. His character is so unique I wanted to have something good for him.
> 
> I cannot wait to hear from you.  
> -Avery


	5. May Someone Hear our prayers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We both say our prayers to universe, begging it to be kind. They are the same prayers echoed from different mouths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you thank you all so much for following the story. A very special thank you to Evok for translating everything into French for me.

"Why am I so emotional?  
No it's not a good look, gain some self control  
And deep down I know this never works  
But you can lay with me so it doesn't hurt

Oh, won't you stay with me?  
'Cause you're all I need  
This ain't love it's clear to see  
But darling, stay with me"

-"Stay with me", Sam Smith

**_I’m nothing without you._ ** _Je ne suis rien sans toi._

     Jean watched the rise and fall of Yuri’s chest. There was blond hair tickling his nose. The smell of cool mint was so strong he could almost taste it on the tip of his tongue. When the younger man was asleep there was a peaceful side to him that only Jean got to see. The lines disappeared from his face and full lips remained parted. The best part had to be the fact that Yuri always had a part of his skin touching Jean. It could be a freezing cold foot pressed to the inside of his thigh. It could be a warm hand resting directly over his heart. When Jean slipped out of bed in the mornings, Yuri always drifted to where he had been laying. It was instinctual. It was a pull that neither one could refuse.

     It was time for the Grand Prix final and they were staying in the same hotel room. Things had not gone well for Yuri after his little announcement. Russia had tried desperately to get him to issue a retraction but the blond stubbornly refused. One of Yuri’s rinkmates had called him a fag. He had not cried, not even yelled. Instead Yuri Plisetski kept his head high, ignoring what was said about him. For the most part sponsors cared about his athletic ability, but some of the Russian ones had dropped him. Jean could tell it was draining him. There was a subtle exhaustion to everything Yuri did not. There was a cautious air to his reactions and movements. They were still physically affectionate in private but publically Yuri would only hold Jean’s hand.

     Chris had surprised Jean by pulling him aside on their first day in Switzerland. The hazel eyes that trailed over Jean were quiet and understanding. Jean was free to be himself but Yuri was weighted by his duty to Russia and his people.

     “The first time Victor kissed a man in public, the media was there. I remember the awful words that were hurled his way. I remember that he kept his chin up. I remember that he never ceased to work hard to simply prove them wrong.” Chris sipped on his glass of wine, “That being said, I also remember how he broke down behind closed doors. I remember when his hair was suddenly short instead of feminine and long. I remember when Victor no longer wore nail polish. The homosexual skaters of Russia are born from ice but forged in fire. No one really gets to see their pain besides the few they let near. Take care of him Jean because there will come a time when he has nothing but you.” Jean clapped a hand on Chris’s shoulder. There were no words for how thankful he was just to be able to talk about it.

     “I love him,” He told Chris. The Swiss man cracked a smile but his eyes were deadly serious.

     “Does Yuri know that?” Chris murmured, “You need to make sure he knows that.” Deep down Jean knew that Chris was right.

**_Please don’t leave me._ ** _S’il te plait, ne me quitte pas._

     That night when Yuri’s kisses got heated and intense Jean pulled away. Gently he ran his fingers through Yuri’s hair, sweeping it out of those big bold eyes.

     “You know I love you right?” Jean asked. There was a moment of silence and tears started to fall from Yuri’s eyes. The droplets caught on his lashes and he furiously tried to blink them away.

     “Damn,” Yuri said and wiped his eyes on the back of his sleeve. Jean could feel the fear running through the younger man; it was all the old things abandonment, intimacy, and desperation. Leaning forward he placed tender kisses to Yuri’s cheeks and the tip of his nose.

     “You are mine for now and for always,” Jean murmured and kissed the corner of Yuri’s mouth. Even though he would never say it out loud he had the same fears as Yuri. There was nothing tragic that made him feel that way, just human nature.

     “Careful,” Yuri sputtered out, eyes finding Jean’s. “That almost sounded like a marriage proposal,” His voice was shaky but there was a playfulness to his tone.

     “It’s not a bad idea.” The look Yuri sent him was utterly scandalized. It earned him a slap across the arm.

     “We are not going to get engaged at the Grand Prix final! That is for Victor and Yuuri. I will not follow in their footsteps!” Jean snorted with laughter and pulled Yuri against his chest and savored the feeling of their bodies pressed together.

     “You don’t want to marry me chaton?” Jean asked teasingly. For a brief moment Yuri looked thoughtful.

     “If you beat me by setting a record or winning gold I will get allow you to propose. I won’t say yes though,”

**_Without you this life will never be enough._ ** _Sans toi, cette vie ne sera jamais assez._

     The thing is, Jean loved to win. Jean also loved Yuri. Combine those two things together and you have one hell of a problem on your hands. Jean skated like his life depended on it. Every jump he threw himself into, his arms were raised above his head. A small tribute to his soulmate’s first time in record breaking history. In a single day he beat Yuri’s current record and the next day he placed first. As they stood on the podium Jean could feel Yuri simmering. It was clear that Yuri had thought his titles were safe as they had been the last couple of years. The silver medal around his neck looked odd but not as odd as his facial expression. It rested somewhere in between horrified and terrified. As he stepped off the podium, Jean leaned into whisper in Yuri’s ear.

     “J’ai hâte de retourner dans notre chambre et de t’avoir sous moi gémissant mon nom. Après, nous pourrons discuter les conditions de nos fiançailles,”

He spoke the words in French forgetting that Chris was nearby, standing now as a coach instead of a skater. The Swiss man burst into laughter startling both of the medalists.

     “Bonne chance à vous.” Chris said in French and winked before making room to let them by. Yuri’s cheeks were burning red. Jean’s eyes were wide. But they were both happy.

 ** _So please god, give me a life with him._** _S’il vous plait, seigneur, donnez-moi une vie avec lui._

     It took six proposals, each one getting more and more ridiculous, for Yuri to say yes. They were in Japan visiting Yuri Katsuki and Victor during the off season. The warm air and sounds of gulls reminded Jean of a place near Yuri’s apartment. Time moved differently in the little town of Hasetsu, slower. It gave Jean the ability to savor the time he had with his soulmate. They stood on the beach, Yuri’s long hair falling hilariously in his eyes, a terrible rat’s nest thanks to the sea breeze. Jean stopped Yuri from walking any further down the sandy shore and reached into his pocket. The ring he had chosen was simple. A white gold and a single opal inlaid in the metal, which was Yuri’s favorite.

     “Yuri Plisetski,” Jean started. Immediately the younger man caught on and scowled at his partner. “We have spent over four years skating together and only one of those as lovers. Neither one of us was expecting the soulmate we got but in the end things fell into place. In the time I have spent next to you, I have felt complete. Each morning I get to wake up next to you with your cold feet stealing my warmth is a gift. Each night I spend listening to you talk about cats as you fall asleep is a treasure. I want to do that every day for the rest of my life. So please do me the honor of finally, after sosososo many attempts, will you marry me?” Yuri stuck his right hand out indignantly in response. The blond’s eyebrow was cocked and he was trying to smother a smile.

     “Just put it on my hand already.” Jean kissed the knuckle of Yuri’s finger before he slipped the ring on. Before he could get anything remotely snarky out of his mouth Yuri was talking. “We are having a spring wedding. Otabek is my best man. Yuuri is going to be a groom’s man but not Victor. He doesn’t deserve that position. Yakov will walk me down the aisle. We will al-” Jean silenced him with a kiss.

**_Thank you god. Thank you for listening._ ** _Merci Seigneur. Merci d’avoir écouté._

Epilogue

     Belladonna, poisonous and beautiful wrapped around both of their hips. The possessive twining of the flowers was captivating. Jean’s soulmate was always meant to be elegant and unforgiving. Yet Yuri had turned out to be so much more than that. He was unrelenting and unwilling to compromise. He was tender and gracious. He was also pole dancing at Jean’s bachelor party. Honestly he wasn’t sure if he should be thanking Yuuri Katsuki or cursing his name. The look his Yuri shot in his direction had him melting. Jean had always known his soulmate would be special, in the end he was more than right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Jean says to Yuri: “I can’t wait to get back to our room and have under me moaning my name. After we can discuss the terms of our engagement,” 
> 
> What Chris says to them: "Good luck to both of you,"
> 
> It's done, I managed to finish it! The ending sucks but I am kinda satisfied with it. By the way I head headcannon that Jean's from Quebec.  
>  Thank you all for the marvelous support. As of Monday school is back in session and I am very very tired. So many papers to grade and so little time. I may take a couple of days before I start writing something new. Forgive me!!!!!!!!!!!! Tonight I drink and try and forget that I am a teacher trying to get the next generation ready for the world.

**Author's Note:**

> I love soulmate AU's more than anything. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> I love hearing from all of you!  
> -Avery


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